


terrifying

by nikeflipflop



Category: Billy Star, brockhampton
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 05:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16382639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikeflipflop/pseuds/nikeflipflop
Summary: pumpkin carving in a suburb





	terrifying

Helmet Boy stares intently at Summer’s hands. They work a small, jagged saw into a pumpkin, along the dotted lines of a Jack-o-Lantern face that Helmet Boy had drawn himself. He had initially began the cutting, but Summer had banned him from doing so after he had nicked his hand. Although he sat there, doing nothing but fiddling with the cheap Hello Kitty bandaid on his left index finger and glancing between the pumpkin and the animated atrocity on the television screen, Helmet Boy enjoyed doing something so domestic and sweet with his boyfriend. Scary Godmother: Halloween Spooktacular plays on the TV in Summer’s living room, where they currently sit on the floor, surrounded by newspapers to protect the tiled floor from gourd innards. Summer’s mother had insisted that they save the seeds so she could bake them, but the boys had long abandoned that to finish carving quicker. Helmet Boy moves to kneel behind Summer’s back, tossing his arms around his shoulders. Summer smiles and turns his head, leaving a quick kiss where his cheek would be if not masked.  
“I’m almost done,” he says softly, upturning the pumpkin for Helmet Boy to see. Helmet Boy grins and pats Summer’s chest to express his joy with the turnout so far.  
“I’m glad you like it,” he giggles, going back to work on the final, intricate wedges of sharp fangs, “Also, I love you and all, but this movie is trash.”  
Helmet Boy audibly gasps, making Summer almost drop his tool in surprise from the sound. They both collapse into laughter, Summer holding Helmet Boy’s arms tight at his chest as Helmet Boy fails at suppressing his giggles into the crevice of Summer’s neck.  
As they catch their breaths, Summer checks his phone.  
“It’s already nine thirty and we’ve only done one pumpkin! Look what you did,” he laughs, Helmet Boy punching his arm in response. He now lies on the floor next to where Summer sits with legs crossed, head near his thigh. He feels his eyelids start to droop, letting his limbs fall flat against the cold tile.  
“I know, baby,” Summer says in response to his exhaustion-derived sigh, “I’ll cut this last chunk, and we’ll put it out on the porch and head to my room, yeah?”  
Helmet Boy sleepily nods, squeezing Summer’s thigh.  
Once finished, Summer lets his boyfriend lie on the living room floor as he sets their pumpkin outside. After washing his hands in the kitchen sink, he almost lights a candle for the pumpkin, but realizes he doesn’t care about it that much and leaves it to sit quietly. He locks the door and pads back into the living room, turning off the TV and gently nudging Helmet Boy with his foot. Helmet  
Boy slowly flips to his back, lifting his arms and making a grabbing gesture.  
“You know I can’t carry you. C’mon, all you gotta do is walk a little bit and then you can be in a comfy bed!”  
Helmet Boy groans and sits up.  
“Yep, that’s it,” encourages Summer.  
Offering a hand, he helps him up, locking their fingers as he leads him to his room. Closing the door gently behind him, Summer snorts as Helmet Boy launches himself onto the bed, face down and unmoving.  
“You’re not even gonna change?” he asks, digging into a drawer for some pajama bottoms. Upper torso remaining stagnant, Helmet Boy flips Summer off and yanks down his pants, as best as he can lying down. He kicks them off his feet and turns his head to stare smugly at Summer, who smirks and shakes his head. Helmet Boy gets up only to tuck himself under the blankets and pretend to be asleep.  
When he turns the lights off, the combination of streetlights and vague moonlight are the only thing leading Summer to the bed without tripping on football pads. Helmet Boy laughs to himself at how pale Summer’s bare chest is- akin to a scene from Twilight, albeit no glitter. Watching him settle under the comforter, Helmet Boy cuddles himself against Summer’s chest.  
“Can I?” asks Summer, hands against his helmet. He hums and nods. Slowly, Summer slides it off, Helmet Boy scrunching his face, exhaling and shakily opening his eyes to look at his boyfriend; look at him and try his best not to let his insecurities encompass his thoughts. And, as always, Summer kisses his stress away, pressing lips to his temple, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and finally his lips, again and again.  
He tenderly reciprocates, running a hand through his bleached mop of hair.  
“Love you,” apprehensively says Helmet Boy, barely above a whisper.  
“Love you so much,” returns Summer, delicately swiping his thumb up and down his cheek.  
It was a little terrifying how safe he felt in Summer’s arms.


End file.
